


Hair Trigger (or Dirty Hoes in the Potting Shed)

by JoansGlove



Category: Prisoner (TV), Prisoner: Cell Block H
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21735454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: Desire is a tricky thing to control
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Franky Doyle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Hair Trigger (or Dirty Hoes in the Potting Shed)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ifitbelove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifitbelove/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Ifitbelove. Hope this puts a smile on your face ;-P
> 
> As ever, with thanks to Duchess

“Doyle! Come over here and tidy this shed up. It’s a disgrace!” Franky looked up from the iron-hard patch of dirt she was meant to be weeding. Fucken’ Vera! Anybody’d think it was the end of the world the way she went on. Geez, she was a hard bitch. She took a moment to eye Vera off, staring brazenly at her from under her limp quiff with an expression that said she remembered exactly what went on beneath that uniform of hers, then ambled over with an insolent leer plastered across her face.

Vera sneered disapprovingly as Doyle shuffled past. When it came to proper work, she didn’t have an ounce of go in her. Making a show of checking her watch (even though she knew the time to the precise minute), she called over to Officer Knox. “Officer Knox? It’s time for Brooks’ appointment with Doctor Miller. Take her in for me, would you? And you might as well take Young in whilst you’re at it, she can help out in the Laundry until the lunch bell goes. I’ll see to Doyle.” With her usual imperiousness, she checked off the tools and made sure that neither of the women were smuggling anything back into the prison before allowing Knox to shepherd them away and turning her attention to Doyle – from the lack of noise coming from inside the shed it was clear that she was slacking off again. Moving stealthily to the door, Vera's lip curled in disgust as she was proven right.

“What do you think you’re doing, Doyle?” she demanded. “You're not here for a rest, you know!”

“Aww, c’mon, Vera, lighten up.” In the gloom, Franky lounged against the rickety old potting table, hands deep in her pockets as her soft brown eyes roved over Vera's figure.

“I will not. And it’s Miss Bennett to you,” she snapped.

“Yeh, alright, Vera. Whatever ya say.” She snickered as Vera's face tightened further.

“Well, come on then, look sharp.”

“No rush is there?” Franky pulled out her baccy and rolled an anorexic looking cigarette. “Whadd’ya gonna do? Put me on a charge?” She sealed the thin paper and lit it, squinting at Vera through the blue haze.

“Doyle!” she barked. “Put that out at once.”

“Gawd, ya beautiful when ya angry.”

“Shut up and get on with your work!” she ordered. Franky just grinned and picked a flake of tobacco from her tongue. “How dare you disobey an officer like this? I said put that cigarette out!”

Angry now, Vera crossed the few short yards to Doyle, intending to knock that disgusting roll-up from her grubby paw but, before she could even reach for it, Doyle had dropped it on the floor and was wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Have you missed me, darlin’? ‘Cause I’ve missed you…” Her hands slipped down to Vera's backside and she squeezed, pulling Vera's belly hard against her own. She grinned as Vera protested and plucked at her hands. “Wassa matter? Seems like we had a pretty good time in that store room, didn’t we, eh?”

Vera tried for an authoritative tone but failed miserably. “That never happened,” she replied breathlessly as Doyle ground against her. She was awash with sudden, sexual arousal and her skin burned with a painful shame that raised a sweat on the back of her neck. “You’ve got ten minutes to get this place tidied up,” she muttered and pushed herself away. From habit, she smiled cruelly at the wounded look on Doyle’s face, and turned on her heel. She’d barely taken a step before Franky’s solid body propelled her forward and she was shoved hard against the rough plank wall.

She had time to notice that someone had etched ALL SCREWS R BARSTARDS into the silvering wood before hands slipped around her hips and her rear end was yanked into Doyle’s groin. She knew that she should put an end to this right now but, god help her, she couldn’t – not for all the tea in China.

“Playing hard to get, are ya? C’mon, Vera, I know ya wannit the same as me. Prob’ly more,” Franky breathed hotly into her ear and slipped her hands up to cup Vera's uniformed bosom. She felt Vera's groan through the hot flesh and caught her earlobe between her teeth as she squeezed her tits harder.

Vera thought that she was going to melt and she braced her hands against the wall as Doyle unbuttoned her tunic and teased her through the thin cotton of her blouse. Doyle’s touch was rough but sure and Vera’s legs lost all of their strength as calloused fingers tweaked at her peaking nipples, making them harden until they ached.

“Oh, Doyle…” she groaned. “No, please don’t…”

“D’ya really want me to stop?”

“No,” she admitted weakly and gave a small cry as Franky’s hands fell from her breasts and the hem of her skirt was yanked up and unceremoniously stuffed into the waistband. A shiver raced through her at being exposed in so sordid a way.

“That’s better, ain’t it?” Franky gave a dirty chuckle and slapped Vera's arse. She hadn’t expected Vera to fold so easily; the most she thought she’d get from her was a quick grope and a stint in the Pound – not this…

One hand found its way back to Vera’s tits and the other followed the curve of her arse cheek until Franky’s fingers were brushing soft inner thigh. Moist heat radiated from Vera's undies and Franky licked her lips in anticipation. Her clit beat hot and wild between her own legs, and she rubbed against Vera as she stroked the damp divide, feeling the dark release of pleasure thrum through her body as Vera whimpered beneath her touch. And as Vera turned her head and looked at her with wordless desire, she leaned in and softly kissed her, completing the circuit of their bodies.

Doyle’s fingers on her clit sent Vera into overdrive. It was as if that tryst in the store room had primed her pistol and now Doyle had her finger on the trigger; and dear god, she couldn’t stop now – she couldn’t stop even if her life depended on it. Oh! Oh! Ohhhh! She bit her knuckles to stifle the sob of pleasure as Franky’s hand worked its way inside the confines of her pantyhose and down the quivering curve of her belly to cover the throbbing between her thighs.

Vera fluttered in Franky’s arms as she wormed her fingers down the front of her knickers and Franky groaned in lusty delight at finding the hot, creamy slick that coated her fingers like honey. “Ooh, baby, you really have missed me, ain’tcha? Tell ya what, put me in a single cell and ya can have it whenever ya want.” She massaged the length of Vera's hot split, loving how it made her moan and squirm.

It was if a dam had been breached. Doyle’s skilful fingers magicked up the wickedest sensations and Vera clawed at the wall as she fought for breath.

She was so weak for wanting this, this… this _release_. Her attraction to Doyle scared Vera, it unnerved her how unconcerned she was about the rights and wrongs of what they’d done – and were doing again. Doyle’s hand was inside her shirt, now it was inside her bra… she stared hotly at Doyle over her shoulder and began to roll her hips in counterpoint to the girl’s thrusts. Finally, she recovered the power of speech, “Mrs Davidson would never allow it,” she managed to gasp. “Anyway, what would Anderson have to say about it?”  
“Who cares?” came the breathless answer. “I wouldn’t want Dor if I could have you all the time.” Franky bit Vera's neck and sank three fingers deep into her core.

“Gahhh!!” Vera began to lose all reason and rubbed shamelessly against Doyle’s hand. She could feel it coming, the sensation building like a watch spring tightening in her centre, and she groped blindly behind her, grabbing a handful of denim as she began to tingle with a strange lightness.

Franky’s panting grew ever more frantic as they rocked together. With her clit riding hard against the thick seam of her dungarees it wouldn’t be long now, ‘specially not with Vera moving like she was. Vera was sumthin’ special, _real_ special, and it had been real hard recently with her ignoring her like she had; all she’d had to comfort herself at night was her memory, spending hours just lying there and wondering if she’d ever get the chance to touch Vera again, but right now made up for all of that – right now she couldn’t give a toss if Vera ignored her for a hundred years – because right now she was going to come.

Instinctively, Vera pushed back as Franky’s movements took on a stilted urgency, and she was gripped painfully tight as the girl’s hips jerked erratically and hot, desperate groans fell against her neck.

Weak and shivery, Franky clung to Vera as she shamelessly began to build the rhythm she needed. “Fuck, Vera, ya fucken amazin’…!” she murmured and slipped her final finger into Vera's slickness. Vera's lids fluttered over glazed eyes and she began ripple in her arms. The clutching fingers left her hip as Vera braced herself, and wet heat drenched Franky’s knuckles as she rode her hand with loud moans.

With a shout, Vera arched like a cat, pushing them both away from the wall as the spring finally snapped and she was left hanging in time. All of her strength deserting her, she sagged in Doyle’s arms as the shattering spasms slowly subsided, and in a daze, she felt Doyle turn her around and kiss her. And, as she closed her eyes and kissed her back, Vera had the sensation of falling, of surrender. With a start she pushed Doyle away, scared of what it meant.

“Whassup, darlin?” Franky reached out and caught her hand, pulling herself towards Vera. “Ya don’t fancy tryin’ for round two? Reckon ya’d look real pretty laid down on that table…” her honey brown eyes flickered down to Vera's disordered cleavage and she stroked the spray of freckles that adorned the creamy swell.

“No, don’t…” protested Vera with a shake of her head. She was starting to see that this had been a mistake. She didn’t have the excuse of being tipsy to placate herself with this time.

“C’mon, whassa matter?”

“Nothing,” she replied tersely, freeing herself from Doyle’s paws and tugging at her skirt.

“Ya worried someone might’a heard us?”

She hadn’t been, but now that Doyle had raised the possibility Vera blanched. They hadn’t been _that_ loud had they? “No, I’m worried about the time,” she lied as she smoothed the grey serge over her hips.

“We ain’t been gone that long. ‘N we still got ages before lunch I reckon…” she grinned at Vera and undid a snap on her dungarees.

Vera was well and truly torn. The devil dancing on her left shoulder was urging her to go for broke but the angel on her right was advising restraint. Fuck! She wasn’t equipped to deal with this sort of thing, but she hated the idea of being the type of woman who gave into her basest desires like some kind of animal. That she had done it twice now was bad enough… She was better than that. With a deep breath she made her decision. “No, Doyle.”

Franky forced a casual shrug. “OK, whatever ya say, Vera,” and she slouched to the shadowy rear of the shed, hands stuffed deep into her pockets.

Franky leaned against the table and re-lit her abandoned roll-up as she watched Vera tidy herself up. “Thought ya’d gone off me. Still not sure ya haven’t.” 

“Well, what did you expect - for me to start showering you with gifts?” With barely a glance at Doyle, she straightened her tie and busied herself with her jacket buttons.

“Nah, ‘course not – but I reckoned ya’d be a bit nicer to me when ya could be, ya know?”

Doyle pouted sulkily as she examined the grazes on her forearms where the rough planks had bitten in and Vera looked at her guiltily. Wentworth wasn’t the place to acknowledge her feelings for Doyle; feelings that scared and thrilled her in equal measure. Doyle wouldn’t understand about the need for self-control, wouldn’t understand that she was destined for Governorship and, that without control, a Governor couldn’t do her job. “Familiarity breeds contempt, Doyle,” she told her waspishly. “And neither of us would benefit from idle gossip as well you know.”

“I can handle anyone who starts flapping their lips,” she boasted.

“Oh, yes? And what will you do if they all start? Throw another tantrum? Don’t you ever want to get out of here?” Doyle gave a ‘so what?’ shrug but the anxious flicker in her eyes betrayed her nonchalance.

“And what about me?” continued Vera peevishly. “I’m the Deputy Governor, I can’t have something like that on my record. It would be the end of me.”

“Aw, they’d never believe ya’d do sumthin’ like this. Puttin’ the hard word on one of us for information, yeh, but nuthin’ else.

“Well then, maybe you should start giving me some information, at least then it wouldn’t be a complete lie if anyone asked, would it?”

The tough young woman scowled at the suggested compromise of her integrity. “There’s things I’ll do for ya, an’ things I won’t. An’ I’ll never lag for ya, Vera. Ya should know that one thing about me by now, eh?”

Vera stared at her archly, “Maybe you’ll have to, Doyle. Who knows?” She grinned slyly as Doyle’s eyes narrowed behind her cigarette smoke, and checked her watch. “Now, get this mess tidied up like you were told to. You’ve got five minutes!”

Swearing to herself, Franky hauled herself to her feet as Vera turned on her heel and marched out into the sunshine. Fucken Vera! Geez, she was a hard bitch!


End file.
